Out Of My League
by JillianCasey
Summary: It's Christmas Eve, and Castle and Beckett have some visits to make. Set in the Dangerous Game/Hunted universe. One shot.


_**Title is a song of the same name by Stephen Speaks. Happy Holidays, everyone.**_

Rick can barely speak because he's laughing so hard.

"So then Kate chases him up onto the podium where Santa is sitting on this giant throne and this little elf lady with pointy ears and shoes is just _screeching_ like a banshee about setting a bad example for the children. The guy tries to skirt around the Christmas tree but Kate reaches out and grabs this huge plastic candy cane that's sitting next to Santa and pulls her arm back and THWOCK!"

Rick makes a hammering motion and in the process lifts out of his chair momentarily.

"She slams him on the head with the candy cane, and the guy hits the deck. Kate drops the candy cane and cuffs him, and when she pulls him to his feet she dusts his coat off and gives him this killer smile and goes 'Merry Christmas, Johnny'."

Rick laughs again, the memory still vivid. He glances at Kate, who is smiling at him from her chair on the other side of the bed.

"Tell him," he says to her. "Tell him what a badass you are."

Kate just keeps smiling. Rick looks at the man between them.

"Total badass, Jim. You raised one hell of a daughter."

Jim doesn't say anything. Not that Rick expected him to. It's hard to talk when you're in a coma.

It's Christmas Eve, and he and Kate are at St. Thomas visiting her father. It's the first Christmas since their Mark DeLucas nightmare. Nine months since Kate came back to him. They haven't looked back, and Kate hasn't wavered. She solves murders and lets him love her and her laugh is just as exquisite as ever, maybe even more frequent.

Usually she visits her father every Friday afternoon. When they get home from St. Thomas she's quiet but she isn't distant. In fact, those are the nights she never wants him out of arm's reach. Kate likes her space and she likes to take care of herself, but on the days she sees her father she wants Rick close. He's happy to oblige.

When she asked him to go with her to St. Thomas on Christmas Eve, he could tell by the quiver in her voice that she was going to have a hard time. The look on her face when she sat down in the chair she's sitting in now broke his heart, so he did the only thing he knew how to do: he told a story. A story about her, about the case they closed a few weeks ago. He told the story as if Jim could hear him, and when he looked up to see Kate watching him with that soft smile on her face that said _I love you_, he knew he'd done it right. So he told another story, and another, until he got to this one, which had just happened yesterday.

Rick stares down at Jim and wishes he would wake up, at least long enough to hold Kate on Christmas Eve. But this isn't TV, and miracles don't happen just because it's Christmas. He can write to Santa and pray as much as he wants – Jim Beckett isn't going to wake up.

"Rick."

Rick lifts his gaze to his girlfriend. Her smile is gone.

"It's getting late."

He understands her instantly. She can't stay much longer. He's on his feet in a heartbeat. He sets his hand on top of the older man's.

"Jim, always a pleasure. We'll see you Friday."

Rick walks around the bed, watching discreetly as Kate gets to her feet and leans forward to kiss her father on the forehead.

"Merry Christmas, Dad."

Her voice makes Rick's heart hurt. When she turns toward him, her jaw set and her eyes glistening, he holds his arm out, exposing his side to her. She folds herself into him, burying her face in his collarbone. They stand there for a moment, silent and close, and Rick can't resist closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of her hair. Finally he kisses the top of her head and leads her out of the room, his arm around her shoulders.

When they're in the hallway she reaches up and laces her fingers with his hand on her shoulder. He glances at her but her head is bent, her dark hair falling forward so that he can't see her face. A few of the nurses that recognize them from their Friday visits murmur "Merry Christmas" quietly, and Rick smiles appreciatively and wishes them the same. They all give Kate sympathetic smiles, but she doesn't look up.

When the elevator doors close behind them, Rick turns to face her.

"If you're up for it, I'd like to take you somewhere."

She finally looks up at him. She blinks, her long eyelashes fluttering. "Where?"

"Can I surprise you?"

She bites her lip. "Rick…"

"It won't take long," he assures her. "Only as long as you want to be there. I promise."

She studies him for a moment, and then a hint of a smile tugs on the corners of her mouth. "Pinky promise?"

X-X-X-X-X

Rick has her laughing by the time they're almost there. His arm is slung across the seat behind her, and he revels at the musicality of her laugh as much as the feel of her gloved hand resting casually on his thigh.

"White Christmas," he tells her when her laugh fades. Snow is falling lazily outside the window of the cab, dusting the city. "Just the way it should be."

"You're hopeless," she teases, squeezing his leg.

He smiles. "When I was a kid, I used to ask Santa to make it snow on Christmas."

She looks up at him. "When you were a kid?"

He narrows in on the mischievous glint in her eye. "You saw the letters Alexis and I wrote to Santa, didn't you?"

"Pleading the fifth."

"We do it every year. It's tradition."

"It's cute."

"Makes you want me, right?"

The eye roll is automatic. They both laugh. Silence cascades over them for about a block or so until Rick sees the landmark he's been waiting for. He immediately reaches up and covers her eyes. She stiffens.

"Um…" she murmurs, holding the 'm' sound long enough to get her point across.

He grins even though she can't see. "Don't you trust me?"

"Yes. But I'm not sure I trust my sanity. Are we getting closer?"

"Guess. Detect."

"Rick."

"You're a detective. Isn't it what you do?"

She smiles at that. "We just passed the library. Are you taking me to the library?"

"No. It's closed anyway."

She squeezes his leg again. "Are you telling me that Richard Castle couldn't have the library open on Christmas Eve if he wanted to? Surely you _know_ a guy."

"I do know a guy. Wait until next year."

She laughs. "We just turned left."

"And…?"

"And…I have no idea. Where are we going?"

"Just wait."

She sighs, but it isn't her irritated sigh. It's her I'm-trying-to-pretend-I'm-exasperated-but-I-really-think-my-boyfriend-is-adorable sigh. He said that out loud to her once. She twisted his ear.

The cab pulls up to the curb, and Rick clears his throat. "Okay, I'm going to move my hands, but you can't open your eyes."

"I won't."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"No cheating like you did at poker."

"Oh let that _go_ already, would you?"

Rick chuckles and lowers his hands slowly. He's pleased to see that her eyes remain closed. He pays the driver and gets out of the cab. Once out, he leans down and grabs Kate's hand. "C'mon, love. I'll help you out."

"I don't like this."

Rick ignores that and tugs on her hand. "Let me help you out of the cab."

She lets him. The cab pulls away and leaves them standing on the sidewalk. Rick positions Kate so that she's facing what he wants her to see when she opens her eyes.

"Are you ready?" he asks.

"I'm not sure."

"What do you mean you're not sure?"

"I mean, what am I going to see? If you bought me a pony-"

"Alexis wouldn't let me. I tried. Maybe for Valentine's Day. Ready?"

She sighs through a smile. "Yes."

"Open your eyes."

Rick will never, not until the day he dies, forget the look on Kate's face when she realizes where she is.

The Macy's holiday window displays are glowing brightly against the falling snow, looking colorful and jolly and everything that Christmas is supposed to be. Kate stands frozen on the sidewalk, staring at the windows, and after an eternity she turns her head slowly to look at him.

He doesn't say anything. It isn't the time. Not yet. Instead he just smiles, his hands in his coat pockets to shield them from the cold. Her eyes are glimmering again, the colors of the displays reflected along with a million other things, and then she looks away from him and back to the windows. She walks toward one and stops in front of it, lifting her hand to rest it against the glass.

Rick takes her in, her tall, elegant body framed by the holiday display. The snow is falling around her and sprinkling the shoulders of her red coat and her dark hair, which she started to grow out after Thanksgiving. He wants to memorize the moment, the way she's standing with her leather gloved hand against the cold glass while the snow sticks in her hair. He wants to be able to close his eyes on the Fourth of July when he takes her to see fireworks and remember exactly how she looks right here, right now.

After a long while he moves toward her. She turns to look at him, her eyes still wet, the wonder clear on her face.

"I hope it's okay I brought you here."

"It's…I…" she clears her throat, bites her lip. Her eyebrows gather. "How did you know?"

Not a chance in hell is he going to tell her that Mark DeLucas told him. Instead, he shrugs. "We visited your dad. It's only fair we visit your mom too."

It doesn't answer her question and they both know it, but she doesn't push him. His hand closes around the thin object in his coat pocket.

"I have something for you."

She smiles and it is absolutely dazzling. "Something more than this? More than you?"

God, he's crazy about her. "I came here a while ago with Alexis to look for something for Mother for Christmas. There was this guy out here snapping pictures like crazy. I assumed for publicity purposes, since these windows are such a big deal. It made me wonder how many years they've been taking publicity pictures."

Her body goes rigid. She knows where he's going.

"So since I know a guy," he gives her a smile, "I got into the archives. That's what I was doing that whole weekend you were at that conference. It took me two days and Alexis bringing me more coffee and hot dogs than one man should ever consume, and I can't even smell hot mustard anymore, but…"

He pulls it out of his pocket and holds it in front of her. A little rush of breath escapes from between her lips. Rick doesn't take his eyes off of her face as she reaches out and takes the photograph from his hand. He has the picture memorized; he doesn't need to look at it.

It's of Kate and her mother. Kate looks like she's ten, maybe eleven, and she's standing with her hand against the window the same way she had been a few moments ago. Johanna Beckett is bent down eye level with her daughter. While Kate is staring at the window, an impossibly large smile on her face, Johanna is staring at her daughter with a similar smile.

Rick watches as Kate traces her finger over the picture. Her lips are pressed together tightly. She's trying not to cry. For a split second Rick is terrified he's made a terrible decision, and then she looks up at him. She shakes her head, holding his eyes, and then whispers to him through the snow.

"You're extraordinary."

Rick smiles. "I'm just trying to keep up with you."


End file.
